


I've put my trust in you

by unicornduke



Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Ambiguous Relationships, Deaf Character, Fix-It, Gen, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-06
Updated: 2013-01-06
Packaged: 2017-11-23 22:53:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,714
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/627404
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unicornduke/pseuds/unicornduke
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They saved the world, the Avengers did. They saved the world that Loki tried to destroy (and him too, before Nat knocked him out), and they sat in a shawarma place eating and despite all of the injuries he took that day, all Clint could think about was how much his ears hurt.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I've put my trust in you

They saved the world, the Avengers did. They saved the world that Loki tried to destroy (and him too, before Nat knocked him out), and they sat in a shawarma place eating and despite all of the injuries he took that day, all Clint could think about was how much his ears hurt. 

They really hurt and his head was pounding and the shawarma was not looking appetizing at all. Even though he hadn't eaten in at least two days.

Clint reached up and rubbed his hand over his right ear, subtly poking at the hearing aid hidden in the canal. Between the concussions he no doubt had and the interference from the beating he took (hearing aids don't stay in place that well) he needed to get these out and pass out for a bit. Natasha would guard his back. He didn't think about who else normally watched his back because he was _dead_ and-- no. Not thinking about it. 

Clint's chest hurt, just under his sternum. He ignored it. 

~~

“Incoming phone call from Director Fury.” The voice issued from Stark's pocket. He pulled it out and held it up near his face, pointed at himself. 

“Fury. What now?” Stark asked.

“Stark. Can you guarantee this call is secure?” Fury said, voice snapping. 

“Of course it's secure. JARVIS has it handled.” Stark said and frowned. “What's going on?”

“Fourteen minutes after Phil Coulson's death was reported, the medics revived him using something from the R&D magic division that they called 'that blue goop'.” Fury kept talking over the indignant noises the others made. “His survival is classified and to be kept a complete secret. I don't want the World Security Council hearing of it. Myself, Hill and you are the only ones to know.”

“Coulson's alive?” Clint asked Natasha under his breath. “That's what he was saying?” His ears were ringing and things were going slightly gray and he was not going to pass out in relief. The pressure on his chest was easing. 

“Yeah.” She turned and looked at him. “What's wrong?” She hissed back at him.

Clint signed, _Ears and head hurt. When are we seeing Phil?_

She started to mutter something when Fury called their names.

“Agent Romanov, Agent Barton. I expect you to be with him when he wakes up.” Fury sounded wry. “You know how he gets. As for the rest of you, I need you all to lay low once you send Loki on his way. Good luck, Avengers. Fury out.”

A click sounded from the phone and Stark looked over at Clint and Natasha. “'You know how he gets'. What does that mean? That sounds like a story that I want to know. Where's he at anyway?” 

Natasha pulled her SHIELD phone out and checked it. “I have the address and room. Come on, Clint, we need to see Medical first.” She held out a hand to him. 

“We're going to a hospital. We don't need Medical.” Clint said. He wasn't going to leave Phil alone for anything. He grabbed her hand and hopped up when she pulled, ignoring the throbbing pain that flashed through his body and steadied himself. 

He looked up to see her incredulous expression. Rolling his eyes, he said, “I don't care. I'll be fine. Let's go see him.” He rubbed his left ear as they walked away, glanced once at Natasha and pulled the hearing aid out. 

A SHIELD vehicle was waiting outside, parked carefully between chunks of building that were laying in the street. A junior agent was sitting in the driver's seat, his face pale and set. Natasha hopped in the back and pulled Clint in after he moved too slow getting in. _Do you have your other aids in your suit?_ She signed as he pulled the second hearing aid out. 

He shook his head no. They were left back at the Pegasus station with his stuff. Or wherever his nearest go bag was. While SHIELD had done an excellent job designing hearing aids that worked as comms, they still hadn't made them comfortable and so he kept his bags stocked with his backup aids that went on the outside of his ear. 

_We'll have to run by a safe house or HQ,_ Natasha signed to him. _But not before Phil wakes up._

Clint nodded and leaned against the door as the agent started driving. He closed his eyes and felt the shift of the seat as Natasha moved forward, probably to tell the kid where to take them to see Phil. The vibrations of the car felt like they were rattling his brain out of his head.

A few seconds later, he felt her sit back and she gently placed her hands on his arm. Clint cracked his eyes open and Natasha motioned for him to pull off his tac vest. A bag had appeared in front of her from somewhere and it was open, a few clothes visible as well as a large first aid kit. 

Moving slowly, he undid the buckles and zippers that attached the vest to the suit's pants and shucked it off, too tired to care about how it scraped against the cuts from the glass in his arms. He pulled the undershirt off and saw Natasha wince. She was probably looking at his back which he definitely did not want to think about right now. Landing on his quiver multiple times always did a number on it.

She moved in, gently cleaning the cuts and scrapes on his back and arms and Clint put his head back on the window. It was cool, a balm for his head while Natasha's hands soothed and healed. It was quiet.

~~

He must have dozed off since he opened his eyes and they were almost out of the city, stopped in front of a small hospital. He felt more rested too. Natasha was tapping the glass in front of his face and Clint sat back and shoved the hearing aids back in with a wince. “Room number?” He asked, voice rough and cracked. 

_106, back wing._ Natasha signed with a significant look towards the driver. Not that they didn't trust other SHIELD agents but it was better to play it safe with extremely classified information. 

Clint pulled on a t-shirt and hooded sweatshirt from the bag and thanked the agent at the wheel before sliding out of the car. After handing him their gear bags, Natasha climbed out, favoring her right leg for an instant before hiding it. 

Clint raised an eyebrow at her and offered his arm, knowing it would irritate Natasha to have help but wanting to help all the same. 

“Yeah, yeah.” She grumbled but she hooked her arm through his. They walked towards the hospital doors a fraction slower than normal but only Coulson would have been able to tell; Natasha leaned some of her weight on him to keep her ankle from getting worse. When did she injure that?

Swiping their SHIELD badges, they entered the impersonal white lobby; the receptionist at the desk harried looking. She briskly ordered something to the person over her earpiece and hung up. “Badges please.” She told them as she clicked rapidly through something on her computer. “Who are you visiting?” 

“Patient 106.” Clint said, handing both of their badges over and waited as she swiped them, passed them back and then hit a button that opened the scanners on the wall next to her desk. Fingerprint and retina and Clint squashed the feeling of uneasiness and fear that came with it, a blue tinted memory of fooling a scanner just like this less than two days ago.

But their identities were confirmed and the receptionist pointed them to the hallway directly behind her that was flanked by two guards. Made their way to room 106 and swiped their badges and scanned one last time before the door opened and they were in the room with Coulson. 

Coulson who looked really and truly awful, like he had nearly died, like he'd been stabbed, like he wouldn't recover even though they said he would. 

Clint helped Natasha over to the second, empty bed and made her sit, checking her over like she did to him. Gently, he ran his fingers through her hair, feeling for any bumps on her head. There were several, mostly minor but one large one that worried him. She swatted at his hands but settled back onto the pillows with a deep breath out. 

Peeling her out of the tac suit, Clint checked Natasha's joints, pressing and rolling them all, noting the broken ankle and wretched shoulder before gently palpitating her ribs. “One cracked.” He said quietly, glancing over at Coulson every so often as he worked.

Natasha made an affirmative noise, halfway to sleep already. After one last look over, Clint tucked her under a few blankets, wadding one up and propping it under her ankle until they could get actual medical attention. “I'll take watch.” He said, pulling the chair between the beds, setting his bow and quiver next to his chair for easy access, a handgun on the table next to Coulson's bed, a second near Natasha's, and unstrapping his throwing knives.

Watching over them was the least he could do to make up for putting them here. 

~~

Almost exactly five hours later, Natasha woke up. Clint had checked all of the corners of the room and attached bathroom seven times, tapped all of his knives six times, read over Coulson's chart four times, made sure his hearing aids were working five times, listened to Coulson's vitals eight times and was going to check corners again when she opened her eyes. 

“Clint.” Natasha said, quietly, so quietly, like there was something to worry about. His eyes burned and he felt jittery, like he had to run or hide or shoot. Shoot. His bow was here. Restocked quiver. Twenty arrows. Forty arrowheads, twenty broadhead, ten armor piercing, five explosive, two grappling, three acid. Guns. Two handguns. Knives. Twelve throwing, two-- “Clint. Focus.” 

“Tasha.” He said, he thought he said, maybe the words didn't make it out because the gray was eating them. 

A hand on his forehead. Cool, nice, safe. Only two people safe. Phil. Nat. Natasha who steered him to the bed, pulled off his boots. "Wait-" he ground out. "I need to- I need-" 

She quieted him with a press of a finger on his lips. "I will take watch now. Sleep." Reaching up, Natasha carefully removed the hearing aids and set them in Clint's hand. _I'll wake you if something changes._ She signed. 

Clint nodded once, closed his eyes and dropped away. 

~~  
 _  
Tap, tap, tap. Tap, scrape. Tap, tap, scrape, tap. Tap._

_Tap, tap, tap. Tap, scrape. Tap, tap, scrape, tap. Tap._

_Tap, tap, tap. Tap, scrape. Tap, tap, scrape, tap. Tap._

S. A. F. E. 

Safe. He was safe. The vibrations under his hand spelled out in Morse code. His hand was clenched around his hearing aids and Clint smelled the overly clean smell of hospital. Hospital. Phil. Avengers. Loki. 

Clint opened his eyes and took in a very bizarre sight. 

Tony Stark gesturing wildly at a tablet held in front of Steve Roger's laughing face. Bruce Banner sitting in the other chair watching them with a smile. Thor holding a bottle of alcohol and offering some to Natasha who was giggling madly at something. 

And Phil Coulson sitting up watching everything with a wide goofy smile on his face. 

He was on the good drugs. It was to be expected. 

Sitting up, Clint surreptitiously stuck his hearing aids back in, fiddling with the dials so the noise in the room didn't overwhelm him. 

“Hawkeye'd One!” Thor said, holding up his bottle. “Do you wish to partake in a toast to Coulson's returning health?”

“Sure.” Clint said. He hopped off his bed and instantly regretted moving. So instead of stopping, he swiped the bottle from Thor, saluted Phil, who was watching him and chugged some down. 

“Well that was unexpected.” Stark said, everyone's attention now on Clint. 

“Not really.” Clint replied. “I needed--” 

“Clint!” Phil interrupted. “C'me're.” He gestured vaguely with his right hand before dropping it back to the bed. “Need t' 'spect you.” 

Clint shrugged his shoulder at Stark and moved over to the bed. Phil still looked awful but there was more energy to him now, more color in his face and skin that made him look less like some kind of horrible undead creature. He seemed happy enough with all of the people in the room but his eyes kept going unfocussed and he lost track of things. His left arm was in a sling. 

Clint pulled his hoodie off, still moving slowly with his back and Phil reached for him with his right hand. He couldn't pick it up far enough and his nose wrinkled up for a moment before he gestured with his fingers for Clint to lean closer. 

Obliging, Clint helped Phil run his hand over his head and neck, gently probing at the lump on the top of his head from Tasha. Phil smiled fuzzily at him before poking his ear gently. “Get yer, soft ones.” He told Clint then perked up suddenly, eyes zooming over to behind Clint. “Stark! Tony! Tony, make Clint good ear aids. Hurts him.” 

Clint ignored the confused noises behind him and got Phil's attention again. “My turn?” He asked. 

At Phil's nod, he carefully ran his fingers over his chest and neck, making sure the bandages were still good, the sling didn't press on anything and that his head was comfortably situated on the pillow. Clint turned it into a gentle neck massage, rubbing carefully. 

He was smiling like a loon, he knew that. And it was fine because Phil was here and would be okay and he pressed his face down into the pillow by Phil's head to hide the few tears that streaked down his face. 

The others were talking behind him, at least giving him the pretense of privacy and Phil turned and leaned his head against Clint's. “'m glad you're back.” He murmured.

“Me too, sir. I'm glad you're okay.” He whispered and fumbled to grab Phil's hand. He squeezed it once and then sat back up, wiping his eyes as best he could. Phil was going to be okay and that was worth all the world of embarrassment these people could heap on him for crying about it. 

But no one said anything about it and Natasha reached over and squeezed their hands before Phil drifted off and Stark butted in. “So, ear aids? Hearing aids, he meant?” 

Clint nodded. “Yeah, there was a mission where I had to set off a sonic arrowhead at close range. Took out most of my hearing.” He hesitated a moment before pulling one out and tossing it to Stark. Or Tony, if they were gonna be a team.

Banner looked curious. “What exactly happened? A sonic device wouldn't have taken out your hearing unless it was almost touching your head.” 

“It's classified and not really my story to tell.” Clint said shortly, glancing over at Thor and Rogers who were chatting quietly while Rogers flicked through something on the tablet. 

“Hey, Robin Hood. As neat as these are, nice job to SHIELD for making them comms too that must have been hard for them, I can do better.” Tony said, fiddling with the dial on the side of the aid. “But in order to get them, you gotta move into the Tower once it's finished. That's the price. Or something like that.” Ignoring Clint's look, Tony kept talking. “In fact, once repairs are finished there's going to be plenty of room in the Tower. You all should move in because once an Avenger, always an Avenger.” He flashed them a wide smile. “And superhero teams need headquarters.” 

Clint glanced around at the strange assortment of people that gathered and fought in Coulson's name. This team, who only Fury and Coulson even wanted started; these people, who were outcasts and ostracized for so many reasons. 

They all made something together when they fought to save the world and you know, it looked like it was worth sticking around for.

**Author's Note:**

> Un-beta'd so any mistakes are mine.
> 
> I'm not Deaf so I hope that I wrote a semi-accurate portrayal of a Deaf character. If you think something was done badly, shoot me a message and I will try and fix it.


End file.
